ON THE WAY TO MEDICINE BLUFF.
“What do you fellows mean by trying to cut me out like this?” cried
Reginald de Bray, as he spurred alongside the scout and his pards.
There was more of jest than rebuke in his voice, however, as became
apparent when he added: “You know, I’m in on this deal to the tune of
twenty thousand.”
“Well, De Bray,” laughed the scout, “I had supposed that maybe that
lump on the back of your head was giving you trouble, and that you
were willing to trust me to look after your twenty thousand and stay
in Sun Dance along with Hotchkiss and Pete.”
“It was a stiff blow I got on the back of my head, but it wasn’t hard
enough to knock me out of a picnic like this.”
“This won’t be much of a picnic,” said Wild Bill, with a sarcastic
look at the Denver man’s clothes. “You look like you were got up for
a hoe down.”
“Bother the clothes!” exclaimed De Bray; “the time was short, and I
couldn’t change them. I bought this gun and forty rounds”--he slapped
his new rifle and the ammunition-belt at his waist--“and then went
with a man to buy this horse. All that was necessary, of course, and
while I was about it you fellows came within one of giving me the
slip. Here I am, though, with one eye out for trouble and the other
scanning the hazy distance for my lost dinero. Lawless overlooked my
watch during that double mix-up we had with him, and I had to pledge
it for the gun, the ammunition, the horse, and the riding-gear.”
“You needn’t have done that, De Bray,” said the scout. “You could
have had the outfit charged to me.”
“Didn’t have time to think of that,” caroled the Denver man blithely.
“You act,” said Wild Bill, somewhat mystified by the way the Denver
man carried himself, “as though losing twenty thousand was an
every-day affair with you.”
“If I do, then I’m acting a whole lot different from what I feel.
Twenty thousand is quite a bunch of money, but if I never saw it
again it wouldn’t break me.”
When they had climbed to the rim of the cañon, Buffalo Bill resigned
the lead to Gentleman Jim and Tenny, who were both perfectly familiar
with the country and competent to lay a straight course for Medicine
Bluff.
These two rode in the lead: behind them came Dell and the scout, then
Nomad, and lastly Wild Bill and De Bray, the two latter hobnobbing
as they rode and getting better acquainted. Wild Bill found, as did
every one else with whom the Denver man came in contact, that his
stirrup companion improved upon acquaintance.
“I wish I could understand the whole of that picture Little Cayuse
drew for us,” remarked Dell, as they galloped across the level
country that stretched northwesterly from Sun Dance Cañon.
“What bothers you, pard?” queried the scout.
“That ‘marginal note,’ as you called it,” replied Dell. “What do
those mule’s ears mean?”
“If it comes to that,” laughed the scout, “they may not be mule’s
ears.”
“If they’re anything else, then the mystery is only deepened.”
“Let’s forget the mystery, for now. The main part of the diagram is
clear enough, and Medicine Bluff lies ahead of us.”
“I suppose, Buffler,” sang out the old trapper from behind, “thet
ther nub o’ this pizen bizness is gittin’ ther woman back.”
“That’s the main point, Nick,” answered the scout. “After that, we
can think of the money lost by those on the stage. The woman must be
safely rescued.”
“I wish ter thunder, pard,” went on Nomad, “thet ye’d sent me ter
Montegordo along with Cayuse. Ef ye had, ’stead o’ settin’ in ther
Lucky Strike Hotel, watchin’ Hickok put et all over me at this game
they calls seven-up, I’d er been mixed in with things wuth while.
Seems like excitement has been side-steppin’ from in front er me ever
sence thet fracas at ther Forty Thieves.”
“Which was as many as seven days ago,” returned the scout. “Can’t you
stand a week’s lull, Nick?”
“I dunno, pard. I’m so used ter things happenin’ thet ef a day comes
in an’ slides out without somethin’ doin’, I begins ter think trouble
hes took er vacation. So fur Leetle Cayuse appears ter be hevin’ all
ther fun.”
“You may have all the ‘fun’ you want, and more, too, before we have
run out this trail.”
“Here’s hopin’,” said the old warrior.
The sun had set about the time the party left the top of Sun Dance
Cañon; the darkness deepened, the stars lighted up in the vault, and
a crescent moon began to brighten. Night was no bar to the ready
knowledge of Gentleman Jim and Hank Tenny, however, and they led the
scout and his pards along a bee-line as near as the nature of the
country would permit.
Three hours of saddle-work brought the riders into rough country;
low hills, bare and sterile, but steep-sided, surrounded them--hills
where time was saved by going around rather than by seeking to climb
over.
At last, four hours out of Sun Dance, Tenny and Gentleman Jim drew
rein in a shallow valley, and waited for those behind to catch up.
“We’re close to Medicine Bluff,” announced Gentleman Jim. “It is no
more than a mile from here, and this valley divides into two branches
just ahead of us. The right-hand fork will bring us out at the
western foot of the Bluff, and the left-hand fork will land us on the
eastern side. There’s a slope on the eastern side by which the top of
the Bluff can be reached, but it seems to me that the western side
would be the one where the outlaws are most likely to be found. Which
course shall we take, Buffalo Bill? It’s up to you.”
“We’ll take both forks of the valley,” answered the scout promptly.
“You mean-----”
“I mean that we’ll divide into two parties. If the scoundrels we
seek are hiding around the Bluff, and if they have laid any sort
of a trap, we can bother them by riding into their game in two
detachments. Tenny and you, Gentleman Jim, are familiar with the
country, so you’ll have to be separated. Tenny, Dell, and I will
travel the left-hand fork; that will leave you, Nomad, Wild Bill, and
De Bray to go to the right. Your force will be a little stronger than
ours, but it may be that you are going into more dangerous ground. We
can come together again at the Bluff.”
“Correct!” exclaimed Gentleman Jim. “This clean-up, Buffalo Bill,
must be finished to-night. The--the prisoner must not be left in
the hands of that gang a minute longer than necessary. I have ten
thousand dollars for the man who brings her to me before sunrise----”
“Jim,” interrupted the scout, “not one of us would take your money.
We’ll work just as hard for you as though there was a million dollars
at stake.”
“That’s like you, Buffalo Bill,” said Gentleman Jim; “and right here
I want you all to know that the prisoner is my wife.”
Startled exclamations came from those not in the secret, and in the
midst of the surprise Gentleman Jim used his spurs and started along
the valley.
“Come on,” he flung back over his shoulder, “all those who are to
travel with me.”
Nomad, Wild Bill, and De Bray detached themselves from the party
and galloped after the gambler. Tenny, Buffalo Bill, and the girl
watched them vanish into the darkness that lay like a pall over the
right-hand fork, then themselves spurred into the left-hand branch of
the valley.
“His wife!” whispered Dell, in amazement. “Didn’t you say the woman’s
name was Mrs. Brisco, Buffalo Bill?”
“Yes. Gentleman Jim’s name is Brisco; James Brisco, although Sun
Dance Cañon has never known him by any other name than that of
Gentleman Jim.”
“Right ye aire, Buffler Bill!” exclaimed Tenny. “Gentleman Jim has
allers been a queer fish--generous, squar’, an’ a man o’ nerve
whenever nerve was needed. But everybody knows thar was somethin’ in
his past life which he was keepin’ close. However, thet’s ther case
with purty nigh every one in the gulch, an’ no one has ever showed a
pryin’ dispersition so fur as Gentleman Jim is consarned.”
“But--well, he’s a gambler,” said Dell. “Even a ‘square’ gambler
might be in better business.”
“Gentleman Jim _will_ be in better business before many days,” said
the scout. “His wife was coming to Sun Dance to find him, and Jim is
eager to meet her, and then to turn his back on the gambling-table,
return East and pick up his medical profession where he broke it off.
When he leaves Sun Dance, mark my words, he’ll be a credit to any
community that has the luck to get him.”
“I hope we shall find Mrs. Brisco,” said Dell softly.
“That’s what we’re here for,” said the scout briskly.
The walls of the left-hand fork began to narrow, and the ground under
the horses’ hoofs to become rugged and difficult.
“We’ll do more travelin’ ter cover ther mile thet separates us from
the Bluff,” averred Tenny, “than Jim an’ his party will. T’other fork
o’ ther valley is tollable easy, compared ter this ’un. They’ll be at
the Bluff afore we aire, too, an’ if they meet up with any trouble,
it’ll be some leetle time afore we come close enough ter help. If I
was ter choose trails, I’d shore hev picked out----”
Tenny was interrupted by a spurt of fire from overhead, followed by
the _sping_ of a rifle. His horse jumped, and his hat was whipped off
as effectively as though some hand had reached out of the gloom and
torn it from his head.
“Outlaws!” cried the scout, his quick wit instantly busying itself
with the situation; “press close to the right wall--quick!”
The horses were swerved in the direction indicated, and a jab of
the spurs carried them into the heavy shadow of the wall at a dozen
jumps.
There, in the screen of thick darkness, the scout and his two
companions awaited further developments.
If Lawless and his men were back of that rifle-shot, they were slow
in following up the attack. The one shot was all that was fired, and
ominous silence followed it. Not a sound was heard by the scout and
his friends aside from the heavy breathing of their horses.
“Thet was blame’ sudden,” muttered Hank Tenny, “an’ blame’ near bein’
a bull’s-eye, too. I felt ther wind o’ thet bullet, an’ ther way it
snatched off my head-gear made it look as though it wanted ter take
my head with it.”
“A miss is as good as a mile, Hank,” said the scout, in a low tone.
While he spoke, his eyes were searching the darkness in the direction
from which the shot had come.
“I ain’t grumblin’ none,” continued Tenny.
“The bullet came from the top of the wall,” put in Dell.
“Yes; the men, whoever they may be, are up there.”
“’Course they’re the gang we’re arter,” remarked Tenny, “but they’re
showin’ their hands consider’ble this side o’ the Bluff. I reckon,”
he finished grimly, “thet ye picked the likeliest fork, Buffler Bill,
when ye come ter ther left. We’ve cut out this bunch o’ trouble for
our own.”
“Why don’t they follow up the surprise?” queried Dell restively.
“A surprise like that doesn’t amount to much unless it is followed
up--and followed up quick.”
“I can’t understand why the scoundrels are holding their fire,” mused
Buffalo Bill, “unless it is because they can’t locate us, and don’t
want to waste their ammunition. Hold my horse, Dell.”
The scout flung the girl his reins and slipped quietly down from his
saddle.
“What are you going to do, pard?” whispered the girl anxiously.
“A little scouting,” he replied, “in order to determine what we’re up
against. That shot came from the wall, across the valley. Can I climb
the wall over there, Tenny?”
“It’ll be a hard scramble,” was the reply, “but I reckon Buffler Bill
kin do whatever he sets out ter try. Leastways, thet’s how it seems
from the fashion ye’ve been doin’ things sence ye hit Sun Dance.”
“Wait for me here,” said the scout, moving slowly away through the
gloom. “If you hear me whistle, Tenny, leave your horse with Dell and
come over, for it’s barely possible I shall need you.”
Emerging cautiously from the heavy shadow of the bank, the scout
dropped to his knees and crawled across the valley. The bottom of the
valley was fairly light, and had the scout not taken advantage of
the boulders and depressions, he could easily have been seen by the
marksman on the wall, and almost as easily have been snuffed out by a
bullet.
But he was a master of the sort of work that now engaged his
attention, and he gained the opposite wall without being seen.
The wall was steep and covered with sharp rocks. The rocks, while
making the scout’s climb more difficult, at the same time served to
shield him from the view of any one above.
To make such a hard ascent without loosening a stone, or sending a
spurt of sand down the wall, was the task the scout had set for
himself; and that he accomplished it, in the semidarkness, was an
added proof of the powers that had made him what he was--king of
scouts and prince of Indian-fighters.
And, strange as it may seem, this feat was performed almost under the
very nose of a watchful outlaw. The scout, of course, knew nothing
about the outlaw’s location while he was making the climb. The
discovery came as a surprise when he had crawled over the brink of
the wall.
The first object he beheld was a horse, standing about a hundred feet
from the rim of the valley. The horse had an empty saddle, and there
were no other horses in its vicinity.
The scout immediately drew the conclusion that a lone outlaw
had fired the shot at Tenny--perhaps an outpost, placed at that
particular point to watch the approach to the Bluff.
Then, just as he had settled this question to his satisfaction, he
crawled, snakelike, around a boulder, and saw the man himself.
The man was lying flat down on the other side of the boulder, a rifle
in his hands and his eyes scanning the valley. It was plain enough
that he was waiting for some sight or sound that would locate the
party which had already been a target for him.
Still crawling, although with redoubled vigilance, the scout
attempted to come close enough to take the man at unawares and effect
a capture. In this he was not successful. The scraping sounds of his
forward movement, indistinct almost as the tread of a puma, suddenly
struck on the ears of the man with the gun.
He started up, and, just as he rose, the scout sprang erect, and came
to hand-grips with him.
“Buffler Bill!” gasped the outlaw.
“Tex!” exclaimed the scout, with a short laugh. “You’re not much of a
sniper, Tex. What are you doing with your ears?”
The outlaw swore heartily, and began to fight.
Buffalo Bill had seen this man, whom Lawless and his gang called
‘Tex,’ and it was easy to recognize the fellow’s huge bulk, in spite
of the screening darkness.
A powerful man was Tex, and he marshaled all his strength for what he
must have believed to be a fight for life.
At close quarters Tex could not use his rifle--in fact, that weapon
had dropped the instant the scout had grabbed him--so he sought to
break away and draw one of his revolvers.
Buffalo Bill understood perfectly well what Tex’s intentions were,
and hung to him with a grip of iron.
Finding himself unable to get clear of the scout’s hands, Tex
attempted to draw a bowie that swung in front of him from his belt.
In a mix-up like that a knife was far and away more dangerous than a
revolver.
Back and forth, and around and around the two men strained, and the
scout was not long in discovering that he had never met a man more
worthy of his strength and prowess than was Tex.
Time and again Tex got a hand on the knife-hilt, and time and again
the scout caught the hand and wrenched it away, always with the
blade still in its scabbard, although once or twice the blade was
half-drawn.
For either combatant to gain an advantage seemed out of the question.
The contest, the scout early made up his mind, was to be one of
endurance.
After the first exchange of words neither of the men spoke. Breath
was valuable, and could not be wasted.
But steadily the giant frame of Tex was worn down, and his hard
breathing and husky gasps told of the effort he was making to keep
the battle at even odds.
The scout, on the contrary, was a man of iron endurance. After ten
minutes of nerve-wracking struggle, he was apparently as fresh as
when he had begun the fight.
“Yield!” panted the scout.
“Give up an’ stretch a rope, hey?” wheezed Tex; “not me!”
For certain reasons, later to be explained, the scout wanted to
capture Tex uninjured, or practically so. But some rough work was
necessary, and the chance for it came as Tex finished his defiance.
Several times the pair had weaved about on the brink of the wall. As
the final word left the ruffian’s lips, he and the scout were again
in that position.
Calling upon all his strength, the scout lifted the outlaw bodily
and flung him backward. Tex’s hands were torn away from the scout’s
buckskin shirt, and he keeled over backward, down the slope.
The big fellow fell heavily, and began rolling and bounding down the
steep descent. The gloom swallowed up his rolling figure, and then
the rattle of rocks and loosened débris suddenly ceased.
The scout stood for a second, breathing hard and looking downward
into the darkness; then, giving vent to a sharp whistle, he started
down the bank.
The whistle was returned from close at hand--from part way up the
slope, in fact--and was followed by the voice of Tenny.
“What d’ye want, Buffler Bill?”
“There’s a man down there somewhere: see if you can find him.”
“Did ye hev a fracas with the feller?”
“Yes, and he went over the bank. It’s Tex, one of Lawless’ men. I
want to capture him alive, if I can.”
“I heerd a scramble over hyer,” went on Tenny, floundering about
on the slope, “an’ reckoned ye might be needin’ me, so I started
acrost without waitin’ fer ye ter whistle. I didn’t know but thet----
Woof!” Tenny broke off his remarks abruptly. “Hyer he is, Buffler--I
stumbled right over him. He’s wrapped around a big stone, an’ as limp
as a rag. Reckon he busted his neck--an’ good enough fer him, if he
did.”
Lowering himself carefully downward, the scout presently reached the
place where Tex had been halted in his rough descent of the slope.
“He’s all right,” said the scout, after a moment’s examination.
“Stunned, that’s all. We’ll get a rope on him before he comes to his
senses.”
“I’ll hev ter go acrost the valley ter my hoss ter git a rope,” said
Tenny.
“Tex’s horse is just over the brink of the wall. Bring the animal.
The chances are you’ll find a riata coiled at the saddle-horn, and
there’ll be a heap of satisfaction in tying Tex with his own rope.”
“Thar’d be more satisfaction in hangin’ him with it,” growled Tenny,
as he scrambled to the top of the wall and disappeared.
While Tenny was gone, the scout stripped the outlaw of his knife and
six-shooters.
The capture of Tex was an unexpected stroke of luck, but just how
much luck there was in it the scout could not tell until later.